


Jingle Bell Rock

by kjack89



Series: Twelve Days of Christmas Giveaway Fics [9]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas party and unresolved tension leads to some surprises on Christmas morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jingle Bell Rock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackWingBecci](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWingBecci/gifts).



> Usual Disclaimer

“Really, Grantaire?” Enjolras sighed, raising an eyebrow as he watched Grantaire empty the contents of his flask into the punch bowl full of egg nog.

Grantaire just grinned at him as he pocketed the now empty flask. “Oh, come on, Enj. It’s Christmas, and our annual Christmas Eve party, which you  _know_  wouldn’t be a proper party without someone spiking the egg nog, and you know it may as well be me.”

Enjolras’s expression didn’t change. “ _Our_  party?” he repeated.

Grantaire’s smile faltered, and he shook his head as he poured himself a mug full of egg nog. “ _My_  party,” he said quietly. “Heaven knows that I would never presume to imply that you and I could possibly do something together, even as simple as throwing a Christmas party.”

He brushed past Enjolras and into the living room, ignoring Enjolras, who stared after him, and never even noticing Combeferre leaning against the opposite wall, watching both Grantaire and Enjolras with narrowed eyes.

Less than an hour later, Grantaire was drunk and Enjolras hadn’t moved from his position on the couch, talking to whomever took a break from the festivities to talk with him, but otherwise trying not to conspicuously watch Grantaire, who was laughing with an arm thrown around Courfeyrac’s shoulders, each trying to outdo the other by singing bawdy version of Christmas carols.

Bahorel settled next to Enjolras, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, full red Solo cup in one hand. “Enjolras!” he boomed loudly. “Why so dour this fine evening? You should be up, cheerful, happy, whatever. It’s Christmas Eve!”

Enjolras sighed and shook his head. “I’m just not feeling too festive tonight,” he muttered, and Bahorel shook his head as well, nudging Enjolras in the ribs and pressing the cup into his hands.

“Come on, man, lighten up,” Bahorel said, slightly sympathetically. “Have a drink, make out under the mistletoe. Or something.”

Nodding, Enjolras took a cautious sip of whatever was in the cup that Bahorel had handed him. “Sure,” he said, without much enthusiasm. “I’ll try.”

With that, Bahorel left, back into the mass of people, but Combeferre took his place, smiling lightly at Enjolras as he sat down next to him. “So,” Combeferre started, though trailed off without finishing whatever thought he had.

Enjolras shot him a look and took another cautious sip of his drink. “So, what?”

Combeferre met his gaze squarely. “So are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you and Grantaire?”

Now Enjolras took a swift gulp of the drink, trying not to choke on it. “I, uh, I — I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spluttered.

“Of course you do,” Combeferre said, with a hint of impatience. “You two have been doing this dance for long enough, but something changed recently, something that’s got you two acting like you can barely stand to be in the same room together. And I would think, after this long, that you would know that you can trust me, but…”

He trailed off again, and Enjolras blushed as he looked down. He took another long sip of his drink before answering in a low voice, “He asked me out. And I…well, I didn’t exactly say no, but I couldn’t…I didn’t say yes. I just sort of, um, brushed him off. And now…Well, now you see.”

Combeferre nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “So the biggest question left to answer is do you want to go out with Grantaire?”

“I have no idea,” Enjolras said, in a quiet voice. “There’s a lot more to it than just that.”

Nodding again, Combeferre’s expression turned brisk as he told Enjolras, “Well, obviously you need to give it some thought, but in the meantime, it  _is_ Christmas, and it  _is_  a party, so I suggest drinking up and maybe at least trying to have a good time. You don’t want to give Grantaire a reason to think you’re regretting your brush off, after all.”

Enjolras glanced over at where Grantaire was whispering something into Jehan’s ear while the poet threw his head back with laughter. “Right,” he said, his voice tightening. “A good time. Well, bottoms up.” He drained his drink and stood unsteadily to head to the kitchen to make himself another.

* * *

 

Grantaire woke up the next day with only a slight hangover, which, considering everything, was practically a Christmas miracle in and of itself. And as far as Christmas miracles that he could actually wish for coming true, he would definitely take this one.

He stumbled from his bedroom down the hall, cutting through the living room and sparing a cursory glance at the Christmas tree, the few presents his friends had brought him last night underneath it, along with Enjolras, who sitting on the floor and frowning up at him. Grantaire actually managed to take a few steps more before freezing in place and wheeling around to stare at Enjolras, who stared back at him.

Well,  _that_  was one Christmas miracle he had not expected.

“Um, good morning?” Grantaire managed, blinking rapidly as he gaped at Enjolras. “Dare I ask what the hell you’re doing here?”

With significant effort, Enjolras carefully got to his feet, and for the first time, Grantaire realized what Enjolras was wearing, or rather, what he  _wasn’t_  wearing. Enjolras didn’t appear to be wearing any clothes, though someone had taken great pains to carefully wrap wrapping paper around his hips and down to his knees and had placed a gift bow at a jaunty angle on Enjolras’s curls. Enjolras cleared his throat and glanced down at his bare chest, where there was a large gift tag which read in big block letters, “TO: GRANTAIRE. FROM: LES AMIS.” “I appear to be your Christmas present,” Enjolras said wryly.

Grantaire continued to stare at him as if he might disappear at any moment. “My… _what_?”

Enjolras’s ears went red but he determinedly carried on, “It appears that I got a little drunk last night and, well, passed out. A bit. And, well, here we are.”

“Did you agree to this?” Grantaire practically yelped, his voice rising in pitch.

Enjolras frowned. “Of course not,” he snapped. “The only thing I agreed to was the drink that Bahorel handed me last night, and the next thing I know, I wake up under your Christmas tree, half-wrapped in wrapping paper with a bow taped to my hair, apparently, as  _your_  gift. So  _you_  tell  _me_  — did you put them up to this?”

Grantaire’s face had taken on a dangerously red hue, and he shook his head, turning away slightly. “Of course I didn’t put them up to this,” he hissed, the muscles in his back tense. “If I had wanted a present I would’ve asked for a fucking gift receipt for the one they gave me.”

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Enjolras asked coolly, “Why, so you could return me?”

“No. So that I could exchange you for a model that actually likes me,” Grantaire shot back, turning around to match Enjolras’s glare.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Enjolras sighed and shook his head. “Look, clearly neither of us wants to be in this situation. So I’ll just…you know, put my clothes on and go.”

Grantaire shook his head as well. “Excuse me, but I don’t think so. There’s a tag taped to your chest that says, ‘To Grantaire’ on it, and I don’t intend to let you go anywhere until I’ve at least unwrapped my gift.”

Enjolras turned almost scarlet and he stammered, “I’ve only got my boxers on underneath.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Grantaire told him cheerfully, and he started forward, as Enjolras took a hasty step backward. “Aw, c’mon, Enj, don’t be a tease. You can’t show up under my tree, wrapped up so nicely, and expect me to not unwrap my gift.” Enjolras’s mouth opened and closed as he gaped at him, and Grantaire’s smile softened and he rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to unwrap you without your properly given consent, dumbass.” He turned away, calling back over his shoulder, “I’m going to go make coffee. I can’t handle this kind of shit this early in the morning.”

Enjolras stared after him before blurting, “You could at least open the card.” Grantaire frowned as he turned back to him, and Enjolras added quickly, “It’s on the table.”

Grantaire frowned at him, but reluctantly stepped over to the table, picking up the card that simply said, “Grantaire” on top of it. He ripped it open and pulled out the card, reading aloud from inside, “Grantaire, I left Enjolras here for you because I think you need to work a few things out. Consider this my gift to you both, and just keep in mind that you will most likely thank me later. Merry Christmas, Combeferre.”

“That bastard,” Enjolras said, though without much venom in his voice. “I should’ve known that only Combeferre could be responsible for this.”

“I don’t know,” Grantaire said lightly, setting the card back down on the table. “Courfeyrac would definitely have done it, given the opportunity. And, you know, Bahorel would’ve done it just to see what your reaction would have been. Hell, even I would have done it, though I wouldn’t have been presumptuous enough to stick you under my own tree.”

Enjolras shook his head stubbornly. “No, only Combeferre would have followed through with it,” he insisted. “He was the only one who knew—”

He broke off, and Grantaire glanced at him, curious. “The only one who knew what?”

Enjolras had gone bright red, and he shook his head quickly. “It, um, it’s nothing. Combeferre just…I mean, he knows me best. Knows that I wouldn’t, um, wouldn’t kill him for pulling something like this on me.”

“Right,” Grantaire said, though his face fell slightly. “Well, anyway. I still need that coffee. And I somehow doubt I’m going to be doing a whole lot of thanking later.” He started towards the kitchen, then stopped, something darkening in his expression. “How long have you been awake?”

Confused by the sudden change of topic, Enjolras shook his head. “I don’t know? A little over an hour, maybe?”

Grantaire turned to face him, his expression still oddly shuttered. “Then why are you still here?”

Enjolras frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Why wouldn’t you have just gone on your own?” Grantaire asked, his voice quiet but determined as he met Enjolras’s gaze squarely. “Why wouldn’t you have woken up, realized where you were, and quickly unwrapped yourself and just left? I would have woken up and never known any different, so why would you stay?”

A blush rose in Enjolras’s face, and he shook his head. “I, uh, I don’t…I mean, I didn’t plan on…I just…” Grantaire raised an eyebrow and Enjolras’s blush deepened. “I just…being here on Christmas day seemed like not such a bad thing after everything that’s happened,” he blurted. “I wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. Is that so bad?”

Grantaire shook his head, looking a little dazed. “Not so bad at all,” he muttered. “I just…I don’t understand  _why_  you would want to. I was under the impression that you sort of, well, didn’t really want anything to do with me.”

Enjolras shook his head and looked down at the ground. “Yeah, that’s sort of why I wanted to stay as well. To apologize. Because, uh, well, I didn’t answer your question from a few weeks ago. Not really. And I wanted to answer you now.” He squared his shoulder and looked back at Grantaire. “If you still want to, I would love to go out with you, Grantaire. On a date.”

Staring at him, Grantaire couldn’t help but break into laughter, almost falling over from laughing so hard, and clutching his side as he shook with laughter. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped, still laughing, tears of mirth running from his eyes. “But you’re literally standing there wrapped up like some kind of sex present and honest-to-god asking me out and it’s possibly the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen in my life.”

Though Enjolras laughed slightly at that as well, his still asked hesitantly, “Is that a no, then?”

“Is that a—for fuck’s sake,” Grantaire said exasperatedly, crossing over to kiss Enjolras, wrapping his arms around Enjolras’s neck. “Dumbass,” he said, before kissing Enjolras again. “ _I_  was the one who asked  _you_  out. Of course I still want to.”

Enjolras made a noise in the back of his throat and pushed Grantaire backwards toward the couch, the wrapping paper around his legs ripping slightly as they stumbled together, landing almost awkwardly together, lips never leaving the others’. They kissed for several minutes, Enjolras gripping the base of Grantaire’s skull as Grantaire ran his fingers almost reverently down Enjolras’s sides.

They broke apart breathing heavily, and Grantaire nipped lightly at Enjolras’s lower lip. “I have to say, I was not expecting this Christmas miracle,” he murmured, his lips brushing against Enjolras’s.

Enjolras, however, stiffened and pulled back slightly. “You do know that this isn’t a miracle, right?” he asked, sounding almost anxious. “I just…I don’t want you to think that it’s…that it’s only because it’s Christmas, or whatever. This…this has been a long time coming, and it’s  _not_  miraculous, it’s…” He paused, searching for the right word, and his grip on the back of Grantaire’s head tightened slightly. “It’s human,” he said, finally. “We’re human.  _I_  am human, despite what you may think, and that’s what’s going to make this work.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes slightly and kissed him. “True though that may be,” he said, his voice light, “you’re still the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten. So let me have this moment, alright?”

Though Enjolras looked like he still wanted to say more, the corners of his mouth twitched up as Grantaire kissed him. “There’s no other tree I would rather have been under,” he admitted.

“That’s  _almost_  the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” Grantaire said seriously, though his eyes twinkled with laughter. “Now shut up and kiss me. I haven’t quite decided if I want to keep you or regift you.”

Enjolras growled low in his throat and pushed Grantaire back against the couch. “Just you try and regift this,” he said, biting down against Grantaire’s neck possessively while Grantaire just laughed breathily. 


End file.
